The Only Choice: Life Or Death
by I'll Kick Your Muggle Ass
Summary: She's been in the Games before, but was taken out of them immediately. The Descendant Of The Hunger Games, that's what Lyra Colt has been known as to the Capitol for her entire life. And there's something about her that makes Cato's blood race like nothing else. But there's a choice to be made. Will they live? Or will death take over? (Cato/OC)
1. Chapter 1 - Lyra

_**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Hunger Games, nor the concept of it. **_

_**I would like to point out that I am writing this for the fun of it, but if there are some errors that cannot be ignored then please let me know and I will fix them when possible. It bothers me how I can read over and still miss things so I'm hoping you will be able to help me through this. That does not mean be rude, though. Writing fanfiction is truly just a hobby for me, so please be nice?**_

* * *

**CHAPTER** **ONE**  
_Lyra_

I tried to act natural. To stay as calm as I could possible. It was a difficult task, though. My hands refused to obey my mind, only increasing their quivering and sweating when I forced my fingers into a fist. Even before I made my way up to the blood sample's desk, I found myself feeling a little light-headed. There was an extremely large chance that by the end of the Reaping, all of Panem would think of me as The-Tribute-Who-Had-A-Panic-Attack-In-The-Middle-Of-Her-Reaping and I knew what that would bring. If the reaction to Annie Cresta's winning of her Games was any indication to how they'd react to me fainting, District 4 would offer me to the Capitol as sea food quicker than let my stay. Pride was everything, especially when it came to the Hunger Games.

And so my hands kept shaking.

My eyes scanned the many rows that surrounded me then moved up towards the Justice Building, and I almost felt my stomach plunge into my toes. Jett Orion, with her corkscrew blue curls and seafoam green skin that nearly shimmered in the sunlight, practically danced her way on to the stage with a beaming grin that shows off her perfectly white teeth. It was obvious that, over her four years at District 4's escort, she had learnt to try to show us some support. Her first year had been a disaster, if I remember right. We, as an entire District, had disapproved of her coal-black clothes. District Twelve would have liked it a lot more...

"Ladies and gentlemen of District 4," she sang out, "I welcome you to the Reaping of the 74th Hunger Games. It is a pleasure to see the newest faces of our growing country. I _just love_ their innocence!"

In other words, she, like everyone else in the Capitol, loved fresh meat.

"We have a special treat for you all. Sent all the way from the Capitol, by President Snow himself, we have a short clip to remind us of our history," Jett clapped twice before going silent.

So, again, we waited until the screen in front of us flickered to life. It flashed on and off a few times before it showed us an image on the ruins of District 13. The rebellion had changed everything for us, creating a world of death and destruction like nothing before. Then, as the music started, the screen changed to show us clips of the past Games and the tributes that took either survived or died. Faces flashed up before fading into someone else, and it kept going on like that for a short while. There was a longer pause on each District 4 tribute, like we needed a reminder of who was lost to us now.

But it was the differences that shocked me the most in the faces of each victor. How only a small percentage were smiling while all the rest looked ready for death, or worse. Most stood emotionless; eyes empty yet still full of horror. Their faces were the aftermath of the Hunger Games.

"Oh, isn't it just _wonderful_?" Jett squealed happily. "A message straight from the Capitol is always so exciting. Always makes me _so _cheery because it's just the beginning!"

No one else shared her joy-filled shrieks. Nobody was even smiling along with the woman.

"Anyway, we've got to be moving on now as the time has come to choose a young man and a young woman to represent District 4. I can just sense the tension," and I wondered if that was sarcasm. "As always, ladies first."

Moments later, when her hand hovered over the giant bowl that hid my name twenty-three times, I felt my heart shudder. Twenty-three little life lines were floating about in that sea of paper, hooked to me like my papa's fishing hooks. If one of them was yanked out, then I was going to be taken with it.

That's when I heard it. The silence being destroyed by the rustling of papers that almost reminded me of the sea being split in two by a ship.

"Lyra Colt!"

I froze completely, then. Lyra Colt... was me. That was my name. No longer shuddering, my heart literally stopped for a full second. A second of silence before it raced on, ramming against my ribs like a prisoner wanting out of a jail cell. Rambling voices erupted in my head as I stared at the girls edging away from me, as if in the last moment I had caught a lethal illness that was contagious. They were no longer classmates or friends. From then on, they would be part of my audience.

Sobbing sounded from somewhere behind me. Head snapping backwards, I felt my throat clogging up when the sight of my grandma wrapped up in my papa's arms came into view. Her frail hands were gripping at his coat and I could see his lips moving rapidly, muttering words of comfort to his wife. Always such a nice man, my papa. Only sixteen years ago, when I had been born, they were forced to take me in or I would be used in the Capitol as an Avox. Being the parents of my deceased mother, they welcomed me with open arms.

My ears picked up the murmuring of the crowds before the shouting started around me.

"You can't choose her!"

"She's been in once before, and shall not be forced again."

"_The Descendant_, you all call her? She has done enough for you!"

"The Capitol should treasure this girl, yet you're_ leading her to death_!"

Never before had my District reacted in such a way. We were a favourable part of Panem. One of the richest, as the Capitol had announced a few years back. To show disrespect to a Reaping was like spitting in President Snow's face before sitting on his throne-like chair at the Tribute Parade. It was almost unheard of throughout the Districts, and District 13 was proof of what the consequences were. Of course, nobody liked to view the Capitol for what they truly were but sometimes it was the only choice. Kind of like in the actual Games. You were forced to choose between life or death, and that decision had to be made as quickly as possible.

While the shouting continued, and I quivered in my shocked posture, Peacekeepers appeared through the crowd. Their gloved hands gripped my biceps before beginning to tug me along, until I reached the end of my section and hit the pathway that led to the stage. The surprised faces of the younger children didn't frighten me like they should have but I couldn't help the feeling of contentment pinching at my insides. At least, for another year, the girls were safe.

"Quickly, dear," Jett's voice was a little frantic as she called out for me. "Hurry along now."

The yelling had not stopped. Some people had gone quiet when a dozen more Peacekeepers made their appearances but the braver, or more stupid, ones had continued their disagreements. This was the thing with District 4. Being proud of yourself, and of the others around you, was a trait that needed to be fed into a person if they didn't already have it. As I had said before, pride was everything.

My legs quaked slightly when the stairs were in front of me. Nothing had ever put so much fear into me. Not my first day at school. Not when the nightmares started up, again. Not even when Papa was lost at sea for over a week. The sweat was dripping off of my finger tips as I took the first step, then another and the next. Each time my foot came down on the polished wood, I could hear the thud echoing over the arguments that had broken out. It was the adults that wouldn't stop, too, but that wasn't shocking at all. Many of the children didn't completely understand who I was.

Yet, when I made it to the top of the stage and Jett took my hand, nothing had ever felt like that.

Being protected and cared for by the people you thought hated you for what you were.

"And now, if everyone would calm down, we will continue with finding our male tribute for this year," the young escort managed to sound almost threatening, "so please do be quiet."

That very feminine threat was backed up by the Peacekeepers, who were marching their way towards the adults. With every little stomp they made, another voice went quiet. It worked quite well, the Peacekeepers' intimidation. People often were too scared to go against them, so when their was a rebellion-

"Our male tribute is-"

Someone, with a voice so familiar, spoke out, "I volunteer!"

Hair as black as night was making its way through the sections. The figure didn't even bother coming to the pathway as he leapt over each rope and shoved through the other boys, who didn't take too nicely to the treatment they were receiving as they only started shoving back. Fortunately, it seemed that our volunteer had become career material and refused to put up with the lack of respect he was receiving. Punches were thrown in a blink and then he was jumping over the last rope. His lanky build gave me reason to sigh so I did.

Over and over, the same thought was repeated in my mind. Hoping continously that this was not the boy who had grown up in the same house as I had. That this was not the boy whose blood ran through my veins, and mine ran through his. This boy was not related to me, in anyway or form. But those thoughts weren't right at all.

Jett was in his face as soon as he made it on to the stage, "And what is your name, sir?"

Green eyes never leaving mine, he answered in a strong voice, "Ace Colt. Cousin of Lyra Colt."

There was no hope, after all.

* * *

My fingers were still quivering as I sat in a secluded room in the Justice Building. I kept my knee hopping a little as I stared straight ahead at the entrance to the room. Around me were some of the fanciest objects that I had ever seen, but there was no way that I could keep my eyes on them without tearing up. It was insulting, really. How they thought that they could give us the finest things before sending us to our deaths. Almost like fattening a pig before slaughtering it for New Year.

"Kid..." Papa whispered when he entered, walking to my side immediately. "You're doing so well, so far."

His soft gaze made me feel like a toddler again, stumbling and falling like the day I had taken my first steps. Nobody could make me cry with one look; no one but my papa. So when his eyes found mind, and the rivers streamed down my cheeks, it was no surprise to either of us. Launching myself into his open arms, I let the cries escape me like a storm. It sounded like one and with the amount of water coming from my eyes, it truly was like a heavy rainfall.

"I-I'm not g-going to be able to... do it," I said through the sobs. "With Ace..."

"Ace is going in to protect you, kid. He's going to bring you home," Papa promised, lacing his rough fingers through mine. "It's already been dealt with, and he's sworn his life off to you."

Hopelessness. That's what filled me. If I were to come home, Ace would be the one to die. If Ace were to come home, I would be gone but he would be with his family once more. Luck had run out so now, things were going to be run through the power of destiny. You could be trained to kill, or somehow kill the trained.

"You _are_ going to do this, kid," my papa nodded seriously. "You've came out of it before, and you will do again."

Feeling like everything would go smoother if I just agreed, I found myself nodding once again.

Of course, the only choice was quite simple.

Life or death...

* * *

_**Hello, folks! **_

_**This is a Cato/OC, Hunger Games FanFiction that has been playing on my mind for a very long time. It's annoying how Cato died, and I cried at that in the film, so this is the way that I would like for the 74th Hunger Games to go. **_

_**I'm open to suggestions in situations and pairings that will happen between some of the tributes. Also, I would love suggestions on death scenes as well as my mind cannot exactly come up with that kind of stuff without giving me nightmares on a nightly basis. (That's why I have dream catchers...)**_

_**You can also ask my questions and my plans through reviews and/or PM-ing me! It works both ways and I'll try to respond as quickly as I can.**_


	2. Chapter 2 - Cato

**_DISCLAIMER:_****_I do not own the Hunger Games, nor the concept (wish I did, but sadly I don't)_**

**_The response I got to Chapter One was truly amazing. For all of those who took the time to read my story or put a Fav/Alert on, I thank you all. To those who reviewed, you made me day shine, especially when I'm stressed with stupid prelims but hey! I'm studying as best I can..._**

**_I would like to point out that this story will swap POV's from time to time, and if you want a different character's views on the situations just tell me and I'll try to write it as best as I can. Pleasing the readers is part of my hobby, as well as writing a fanfic that actually makes me happy as well!_**

* * *

**Chapter Two  
**_Cato_

It's the cold, calculating look that Clove sent me when we were waving goodbye that caused me to give her _a certain_ grin. The type of grin that would have frightened many grown men. The type of grin that should have created shudders of fear down her tiny, breakable spine yet the girl stood strong. Head held high and her chin held higher, she was a walking soldier. Not that I was surprised by that display of bravery as almost every child in District 2 was forced to be a warrior from the moment the womb was empty. Bringing a new winner to your home was like killing a million men just to find the true way of life... But that was the Hunger Games, wasn't it?

You become a murderer.

You start to murder.

That had been a problem for most woman, my mother for one. Her beliefs with human life were stronger than her love for her own District but I never questioned whatever she prayed over at night. One night, I had heard her ask God for his forgiveness on my family's behalf. Another night, it had been over the fact that a five-year old was shot for going over the border line and refusing to come back. We, the men of the Hadley's, refused to allow her supposed 'mumbo-jumbo' get into our heads and ruin what we had been taught over the years at the Academy. Neither my father or my elder brothers would dare to enter a 'religious' ceremony with her because I, as disbelieving as it sounded, was the mummy's boy. I got her love for the right reasons.

But then, only minutes ago, I had lost it.

District 2's people were cheering in utter happiness at the thought of having a true Victor. Someone to be proud of and to give the youngsters a new role model; a strong man to look up to and desire to be. Of course, there was the extremely slim chance that Clove would kill me but who was I trying to kid? I, Cato Hadley, would make District 2 the Capitol's favourite, giving them the upper hand in everything and anything. Their smiling faces and eyes full of hope were enough to get me rushing on to the metal contraption, disliking how my stomach clenches at the thought of doing wrong. For all that they have given me, my trainers and my father, it was as if I finally felt the pressure for three seconds before Crescent Moon, District 2's escort, giggled right in my year.

"You're going to have _so much _fun this year, young man," her voice was nearing a purr, "I just know it."

And when the doors slammed shut, cutting off all ties with the blazing gaze of the man I had known as my father, my breathing started to calm.

Because nothing can feel as freeing as getting on a train to the Capitol.

* * *

Brutus, a man with large shoulders and permanently narrowed eyes, was everything that I had expected. The stumpy glass of whiskey, finely aged by the smell of it, gave the impression that the stern look was nothing compared to his real personality. I've heard rumors of him; of him being a complete and utter beast when it comes to murder but in the Games, everyone had to change. Not to sound like an obvious mad man but it sent adrenaline through me every time a new year came around. Sure, you could feel a little sad when someone you knew got beaten to death but that was all. To grieve over someone was to show a great amount of weakness. Why would anyone choose to do that?

"So we've got a chance this year, do we?" Brutus sneered, clearing liking the view of Crescent's backside more than his newest tributes. "What d'ya think, Moon?"

Her shockingly silver eyes widened as she swirled around to face the man, "Well, Bru-Brutus, I think we've got two very good tributes. One of which might join you next year at the mentoring...?"

My lips stretched into a smirk when the words met my ears, loving how the Capitol woman knows that I _would _end up as a mentor one day. Hopefully very soon, too. Mentoring... The dream of being a Victor always was about getting the chance to help the District get more winners popping up and out, like moles and rabbits.

"Ah, Moon, my dear," my mentor clucked, "I do love how you think the best of people."

"Excuse me?" Clove asked, like the little brat I knew her to be. "'Think the best?' That's a laugh, old man!"

Then the silence hit, sounding a little too loud for my own ears. Yet the longer it lasted, I continued watching the quiet interaction between the young girl and greying man, who surprises me by chuckling and taking a swig of his drink. Her attitude, as bad as it may have seemed, must have impressed him somehow. No clue how but it must have because why would he laugh?

His grin widened a little more before fading into a tight-lipped expression. Luckily, I prepared myself years ago to get ready for the drills and warnings and, most importantly, the threats that were said to be closer to promises than anything else. Because of District 2's relationships with the other Districts, it was quite easy to see which ones would help us and who wouldn't. Even without knowing who was a Career District, by the wealth and popularity, any idiot could have glanced around then started pointing out each one would help.

"First thing's first, let's check out your competition, huh?"

With Brutus's face and that last sentence, I knew something wasn't right. There wasn't much any of the further away Districts could do to shock the Capitol but I knew that District 1 usually had some good contenders; nothing really special. All of the other ones held no interest of me as their last wins had not been that... Entertaining? Father used to say that the Capitol liked them for their passion, or whatever crap they tried, and most of them died within the very first day during the main bloodbath. It didn't worry me, of course, because he'd practically sat me down and told me to watch every single Game recorder like they were children shows that the Capitol kids received.

Making my way through the train, Crescent leading the way with Brutus staring at her butt like it's the best thing since... Actually, what's better than a girl's backside? Especially when you've got the money to spend on them to make sure it stays in perfect condition, or I had heard that was how it worked for some people. Unlike Brutus, though, my eyes found themselves trained on the walls of the train. Counting how many doors there were, and nodding to myself whenever we went through another train carriage because I really didn't understand why it had to be so long. How many people were actually staying on the train to the Capitol? Maybe around seven, or eight. What was the point of having more than twelve 'guest bedrooms' when nobody would actually sleep?

Just as we strode by a door, which gave me the impression that the Hunger Games happened behind it, it swung open to reveal woman, who was much more attractive than _Crescent Moon. _That could not be her real name, I was sure of it. Or the other woman had been more attractive until she showed us her not-so-perfect smile. Enobaria, Victor of the 62nd Hunger Games, liked to rip out her victims throats as a show of power. In other words, quite a scary woman but still, I admired her victory. She truly was what District 2 hoped to raise as a winner.

"Brutus," she sang, licking her gold-tipped teeth. "Why wasn't I alerted that our tributes arrived?"

Only a dumb man would keep a secret from such a dangerous woman. Her games, which I had watched from an old recording, had to be one of the bloodiest ones there was. Titus, only out of curiosity had I watched his time in the arena, had left me with nightmares for weeks on end. Enobaria had left me feeling like nothing in the world could stop me from winning because I would get something gold at the end of my Games, even if it was the stupid crown. Gold showed authority, and I wanted that.

"I thought you were resting," Brutus said simply, not even bothering to face her partner. "We're going to watch the Reapings, and I don't believe that has ever interested you in the past so we-"

"Oh!" She cut in quickly, "I heard a rumor about a certain someone being Reaped and I would love to witness it, hearing the opinions as well..."

Even though she trailed off at the end, I knew there was no room to argue. Something about that woman just told me that her personality really was part animal; kill or be killed. A true Victor.

Without a word of agreement, Brutus started down the hallway once again but this time his eyes weren't anywhere near Crescent's ass. Seemed Enobaria brought out a little self-control in the guy. Like my father always said, every man has a weakness and with that weakness, the world can corrupt him into an unwilling protector. Usually, for a married man, the weakness was supposedly his wife but Father never used Mother that way. He wasn't one to show affection, not to anyone in the family because he was 'a man of steel', as my youngest brother said.

At the very end of the train, or many it was the front, an overly large room with a TV screen hung opposite a push-looking couch. It looked beautiful compared to my District's furniture, which was worn and only replaced when someone snapped a leg or broke a chunk off. We were able to make the essentials but public property never actually lasted longer than a few years, sometimes less when a war broke out between the trainees. When that happened, and Peacekeepers found it quite entertaining, a lot of land was damaged yet nobody from the Capitol ever investigated why once a year, people set a fire on the East side of the District.

_I_ didn't understand it until I turned twelve...

"Take a seat and we'll enjoy the show," Brutus snickered, flicking off the lights. "You'll enjoy seeing the competition, I'm sure."

Clove's smirk nearly caused me to laugh, and I did when her lip curled at the young escort. Her face would scare all of the other tributes, I knew that, and my size would instantly cause them to cower. Many years of training had built up a lot of muscle, I was extra pleased to say that I had grown bigger than any other male in my family. Over the last few months, it had been different compared to the set up of the other Reapings. Everything that had been done, setting up the best person for a killing spree, was because of my last chance. My last year sectioned off with all of the other boys, waiting for the chance to volunteer and do your District proud. Nothing was better than that.

The screen in front of my flashed to life, casting light over the room and I had to blink several times to get used to it. It almost blinded me but I was quick to forget that when 'District 1' slid across the screen and the picture changed to view that District. For what it's worth, the neighbour to District 2 was an attractive place to stay.

"You'll pair up with these two to form the Career group this year, kids," Enobaria explained. "I believe you'll kill them easily enough as soon as the time comes."

Her words made sense and I watched eagerly for it to begin. First, when the girl was chosen, my trained mind goes through all of the possibilities that would create any easy kill. Snapping her slim neck. Spear or sword through the stomach. There were many other ways to murder her but just looking at her I could tell what kind of killer she would be. A girl who wanted to look better at everything, wanting to be pretty all of the time. Trying to kill the others with a little grace, hoping that she'd get sponsors just because of her appearance.

"Piece of cake," Clove muttered from my left, nodding slightly with Enobaria.

Next comes the male from District 1. Lanky build with a kind of... Confidence that would be sure to end his life. From what I can see, there didn't seem to be anything special about him; nothing stood out and grabbed my attention. Or nothing had until he'd leapt up on to the stage, whooping a little by the sound of it, and kissed the girl straight on the mouth. She didn't protest but their escort had.

"Pansy at heart," I forced a smile to my lips, giving my partner a nudge with my elbow. "Could use the girl as his weakness."

And it all came down to a _weakness._

We sit through our own Reaping and I couldn't be grinning more than I was. The midget of a girl was quite impressive, snarling out her plea to be a tribute at Crescent like it's the most normal thing to do. Her eyes narrowing like they had many times before, and I wished that would be good enough to scare away the other teenagers. Of course it would, obviously. Then I had the chance to watch myself, always smirking, lunge forward with the words 'I volunteer' on my tongue, nothing could have made me feel any better about that situation. Crescent didn't even get the chance to finish telling us all that we would be moving on to the boy's Reaping when I leapt forward, shoving two other guys out of my way.

"Eager much?"

District 3 had to be the most boring Reaping in the history of the Hunger Games. The two kids didn't even bother to hide their tears as they made their way up to the Justice Building, causing the Peacekeepers to grab their arms and drag them towards the stage. I was tempted to start a conversation with someone when Brutus turned up the volume, just as 'District 4' boldly appeared on the screen in huge blue letters.

"No talking throughout this one," he ordered, "because I'll pause it afterward and we'll talk."

So _District 4_ had something up their sleeve...

I have never been good at the waiting game, so when the girl tribute's name got called out and she didn't move, I was sure that my patience would be worn down so thin. A camera zoomed straight into her face and the emotions that flickered by get me wondering, silently questioning. Only seconds later, when her head snapped back, I was watching as two elderly people clung to one another; the woman sobbing while the man held her up. But that's not what caused my jaw to drop heavily. People screaming abuse, shouting out their disagreements caused my eyes to widen because I knew exactly what they were going on about. It had been the talk of Panem for years after the terrifying incident, becoming a huge problem for the Capitol until the threats started up and stopped the uprising riots.

I understood their reaction because as soon as my eyes fell shut, in the motion of a blink, I was sent back only two years before.

* * *

_"Are you _trying _to win the Games, Cato?" Father sneered down at my, gripping my shoulders tight, "Because a Hadley doesn't _try, _so are you a Hadley?__ We create winners!"_

_Our conversations had always been heading in the same direction, leading towards an argument. Ever since I could hold a sword, at the age of six, he'd spent hours a day training me to fit perfection. His sessions were always gruelling, wasting my energy like it would be back within seconds. Sometimes, just to get out of another scarring, I would beg my mother and pray to God that he'd let me survive another week without gash in my already ruined skin. To others, we were the strength that everyone envied. Our power had never been beaten, and to lose would mean a lifetime of shame on our family. Really, we were just a cocky bunch._

_"Cato?"_

_Breathing deeply, "I am a Hadley, sir!"_

_Hadley blood ran through my veins, pumping through my body. My father's blood. The blood of an excellent Career trainer; a man who stood as the best District 2 had to offer and got offers daily to save other people's children. Large amounts of money were supplied daily because of the fact that families wanted to keep their kids safe. Not only did he spend years working me into a frenzy, but other teenagers were forced into the same fate._

_"Of course you are, son. I would never raise a loser," his tone had almost sounded fatherly for a moment. "A Hadley is a Victor. Your grandfather was, as was your Aunt Carbon."_

_My jaw locked in place as I stared at him. He didn't bother looking up when he placed the sword back in its rack, ignoring the trails of sweat that were streaming down my neck. The air was cooling but I forced the shivers away, hating how weak they made me look. To be a Hadley meant to be someone to show the others how great your family was. _

_"Today, son, you're going to watch a very special Game," Father was nearly smiling, which was surprising. "It's known as the 'Birth of a Descendant' and many people have extremely strong beliefs on how wrong it was. But, as the Capitol, their power never fails, does it?"_

_"No, sir!"_

_He gave me a nod before turning on the ancient TV that I had sat with for years. Each Game that I had watched held some sort of purpose, either it had a style of fighting that was easy to learn and would benefit me greatly or something happened during that Hunger Game which stayed in people's minds for years afterward. Obviously, the latter was what today's history lesson was about. Father had selected a bunch of history-changing Games that would inspire and assist me during my time as tribute. _

_Pressing the _play _button, I stared at the screen as the tributes from each District appeared on the screen, along with their name and age. A smile curled at my lips when District 2's strong-looking tributes appeared with their voices playing in the background, speaking in what sounded like their interview. It was such an honor, to be one of the chosen. Moments later, my eyes rounded at the woman who stood beside a young man, their hands joined together in a way that explained so much about them. Romantically involved, as Mother would say._

_"Thirty-eight weeks pregnant," my father told me, kneeling to my right. "They planned to get married that year but, of course, the Reaping changed everything when the girl was chosen. He volunteered straight after, vowing he'd protect her long enough that she'd get home again."_

_I nodded even though it was difficult to understand. The woman, hands sitting lightly over a bulging stomach, looked quite frightened at the thought of going into the Games with her child still growing inside of her. Her boyfriend, or fiance, did not look like the friendliest man in the whole of Panem but who would in his situation? Letting your pregnant girlfriend go into the Games as if she doesn't have a little person to protect? That did not seem like the nicest way of allowing your soul-mate to die._

_Father pressed the _fast-forward _button before hitting play again; this time I was watching as the woman stumbled through the trees, panting and cursing while her hand waved frantically over her stomach. She was going to have it, or she was acting to get more sponsors, and there was no one around to help her without wanting to kill her first. Fear nipped at my flesh as I stared at her, watching as she went through her child's birth alone while trying to keep as quiet as possible to not alert the others of where she was. Very smart move for someone going through such a painful process._

_And then the wailing sounded. The woman, crying with joy as she held her little baby, let out a sigh of relief before doing something I never knew possible. She turned towards the camera, and it was like she was staring straight at me with massive green eyes, full of tears, when her last words were muttered:_

_"Save her, or a new rebellion will begin," she kept speaking, never turning around to face the approach shadow. "She will bring greatness to our world and if you do not allow her to live, there are people who will fight until justice is-"_

* * *

That had been the first time I ever flinched when a spear slid through someone's flesh.

Because of a little baby, who was rescued by three Gamemakers, who had no parents to let them love her, was brought into the world surrounded by death and destruction. A child who didn't receive her name until the moment her father died, after receiving a sponsor gift that held a note, telling him his baby was saved, and a shred of his girlfriend's clothing. But he didn't let her death taint his child's birth.

Laughing madly, he had yelled out to the world that Lyra Colt was going to live, long and free with no one controlling her.

Back on the train, as I watched the girl who was born in the 58th Hunger Games, my lips moved on their own.

"She's going back in, huh?"

* * *

**_So thanks for reading Chapter Two. Did you enjoy Cato's take on things? Or did you just hate my version of Cato? I know he's only supposed to be sixteen in the books but in the film he's eighteen, and I think that age will fit things better later on... When the fun begins!_**

**RESPONDING TO REVIEWS_:_**

**_To EGilly: I hope this chapter answered one of your questions. As for the other question, well... You'll have to read on later and find out how the two guys get on because it's going to get quite interesting! But Lyra's an... interesting character, right?_**

**_To ObsidianWind: Thank you for that lovely review. I'll try not to let the lack of comments get to me but I love hearing what readers think. I'm glad you enjoyed reading the first chapter, and hopefully this chapter, too!_**

**_So... Anyone want to be nice and give me some more reviews? That Review Box feels so unloved, people! Give it something to chew on!_**


	3. Chapter 3 - Lyra

_**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Hunger Games, nor the concept (which is really quite sad, if I have to say so)**_

_**I have to apologise for the fact that my updates have been slowing down, as my prelims were around and my paranoia had kicked in quite quickly. It's a pain in the butt, but what could I have done? This story, as little as I've written, is already very important to me so I would love some feedback on how to make it better for you readers. Please answer the questions at the end of this chapter...?**_

_**Also, the rating of this story may change as time passes. That means it would go from T to M, but I'm not sure if that's going too far just for this type of fanfic. It just depends on how violent I make it, but I do plan on being a little dangerous with the situations... Do you approve?**_

* * *

**Chapter Three  
**_Lyra_

It's the silence that almost caused me to bolt from the room, and I would have if Ace wasn't _gripping _my hand deathly tight. If I had to guess, I would say it my sweat causing our hands to cling as my arms hadn't paused in their quaking since the Reaping started. My knee was still jiggling with nerves but my legs had quickly tensed after witnessing what I had. What had appeared on that screen was not scary at all, but it was down right terrifying. Figures full of strength and confidence had caught my attention quickly, while the quivering tributes had me new sobbing in grief.

"Lyra, no tears now," Ace muttered, forcing one of his fake smiles on to whitened lips. "We've got to be strong, for District 4."

Nodding, I let my eyes close for a quick second before blinking back into the room. No humiliation touched me when my gaze met the incredibly green eyes of Finnick Odair, whose lips were tightly held together as if to hold in all of the insults blooming on his tongue. Nobody could predict what he'd say, not even Mags had inclined her head in any way to indicate his intentions. For the last five minutes, there had been quiet which Ace had just interrupted. Not that my cousin would be bothered, at all.

Movement to my right caught my attention, and my throat clogged up when I noticed the scenery blurring by at such a speed that scared me into amazement. It shocked me how fast we were going yet the train seemed to glide through the areas. To never notice such beauty, it had to be a crime. Years of living in District 4 and yet I had been oblivious to the green stretches just outside the electric barriers. Each child grew up, either hating the Capital and Panem for what it was or trying to get on President Snow's good side, but we never noticed what was behind those oceans. My family, as small as it was, had believed the Capital used us for one thing. Entertainment. But Panem wasn't such a bad place, not when you noticed what it held.

To put it in shorter words, Panem was ruled by evil but looked like Heaven.

Ace glanced to me before turning to Finnick, sounding harsh, "Are you going to bother helping me, so I can save me cousin? Or are we going to watch the Careers tear us apart?"

I swallowed thickly, feeling my bottom lip tremble when the older man narrowed his eyes. He did not look pleased, and fear for my cousin filled my stomach. It pulsed within my body as my fingers clutched deeper into Ace's hand, nails digging into his flesh. A small wince showed his pain but I didn't bother to loosen my grip. Papa had promised Ace would protect me, meaning I would have to protect him for a time.

"Well, kid," Finnick sneered slightly, "I don't expect you to pick any of this up. Your _cockiness _will surely cause your death, and probably the girl's as well, if you don't watch it."

His words did little to calm my worry, or settle my rolling stomach.

"So much for a mentor, Finnick. I'm sure you noticed what happened to-"

"_Don't, _Ace," I whispered, allowing my teeth to sink into my bottom lip for a moment. "I apologise for my cousin's behaviour, Mr. Odair."

That only rewarded me with a childish huff from the eighteen year old, who suddenly seemed very interested in his scuffed-up 'fancy' shoes.

"I'm sure I'll have to get used to your cousin's_ confidence,_" Finnick muttered, rubbing his temples roughly, "and please, just call me Finnick. 'Mr. Odair' makes me feel old."

Mags, with her croak-like voice, grumbled something inaudible but I could see a hint of a smile curling at her lips. At least one person seemed sane, especially when death could be creeping around the nearest corner. From the very beginning, every child was told about the horrors, or the honours, of being in the Hunger Games. The way it was explained depended on the family around the children, as I had been forced to know a lot earlier than most. Fate just wanted me to be prepared, I suppose.

Finnick didn't approve of the elderly woman's words as he snapped, "Not now, you! Keep it zipped."

She let out a stuttering laugh, shaking her head back and forth like her words were completely true. It would make it simpler if I could understand her but I had heard what Mags had gone through, although it was through District gossip. Old women were still old women, and the teenagers did talk. Even if they never felt like including me in the conversations; Ace kept me linked to everything going on, though so it wasn't all bad. Plus I had a Papa who was the kind of man that just loved to get his word in about everything, even if his opinion wasn't needed or wanted. District 4 wasn't the only place where my papa felt the need to butt his slightly oversized nose into. Let's just say the fishermen were glad when he finally called it quits and retired.

"Why don't we move this conversation elsewhere?" Finnick suggested, "The dining area might provide a better setting."

* * *

Surprise fluttering inside me as my eyes took in the pleasant sight.

All that could be seen was food, food, food _and so much more food! _There was a tingling in my stomach, that quickly led straight into a gurgling type of rumble. The embarrassment hardly made me falter in my strides towards the platters. They were tempting me, with their silver glow and smooth looking metal that hid under the mounds of meat and bread. Food was the only thing that I could see, and it practically called to me.

"Control, Miss. Colt," a snotty tone broke through my thoughts. "Greed and rushing is certainly not attractive, nor will it get you sponsors."

Jett, who just had to ruin my excited mood, was perched daintily on a high backed chair furthest away from the door. Her fingers tapping lightly along some sort of machinery, never once glancing up to see if I had listened to her advice or not. It was almost impossible to walk at a steady pace towards the nest of food, that seemed to radiating every different kind of mouth-watering scent in the entire world. My fingers twitched a little when I let them wrap around the cool wood of a swirly designed seat, tugging it out from beneath the table. A lot of my control was put into trying to keep my movement from being jerky; all of my greatest effort put into the act, making me look like I hadn't been starving for the last while.

As soon as I butt hit the seat, there _really was_ no stopping me. Grabbing a few chicken legs, two or three rolls, near enough a slab of beef and everything else that was within my reach, I started to shove as much as I could on to a plate. Beside me, I could hear Ace shredding into the bread that had been served. His shoulders were hunched protectively over his place, much like mine were, and I almost laughed at the typical habit. Cousins often had the tendency to steal each other's food when the need came around. Then again, family were supposed to share.

"Manners!" Jett shrieked, causing Ace to splutter into laughter. "For the_ sake of the Capital_, child."

Her face morphed into disgust when she noticed the crumbs of bread spilling out of his mouth. Chuckles, clearer than Ace's, erupted from nearer the door way and I hid a grin when I noticed Finnick shaking his head in mirth. If anything, I should be pleased that my newest mentor would like my cousin's easily amused sense of humour. The escort for District 4 must have felt bullied as she stomped out of the train carriage, mumbling about 'the savage behaviour of youth today'. I was shocked to see her nearly knock Mags straight off of her feet, without even a single glance back.

Nicely cooked meat hit my tongue and had me groaning through the pleasure; it was that _good. _Juicy yet tender, it was the perfect blend of sea salt and beef that could have made a dying man survive. Someone could send this into the Games, and I'd probably come out fighting fit. Being a permanent member of the Capital would send anyone over the average weight and well into obesity, I was sure of that. Of course, most of them would just have the fat sucked straight back out of them if the rumours were true. Machinery just kept advancing, especially in the main part of Panem.

Smirking cheekily, Finnick sat across from me, "Enjoying that, are you?"

"So good", were the words that I said but it hardly sounded that way, as the food caused some difficulty.

Noticing how he used his knife and fork to lift food off of the platters, I raised my eyebrows at the 'manners' he had. Nearly all of the people in my District used their hands, it was quicker and easier than holding the metal weapons. Sometimes, if luck wasn't on someone's side, a person could be stabbed with one the blunt knives. Mostly, it was the beggars around the paths that liked to use violence.

Slurping brought me back to the present, and I watched as Ace drank greedily at the pinkisk purple liquid inside his glass. Bubbles floated around in the glass, bringing a bright smile to my face as I continued to watch them pop. Wiping my hands over the fabric of my dress, I reached forward for my glass, still staring at the bubbly liquid as it rippled gently, and carefully brought it closer to my lips. With a mouth full of the sugary solution, the coughing started as soon as it touched the back of my throat and I couldn't help but let go of the glass. It instantly stained my dress and my focus was quickly diverted to that.

"Ace! _Ace!_" My hands shook as they hovered over the fabric, not quite sure what to do.

He grabbed my hands as the quivering increased, muttering words of comfort that went straight through me. There was a tightening in my throat when my eyes noticed the lovely colouring of the dress that had belonged to my mother started to darken and redden, becoming something more of a nightmare as the seconds ticked by. Each one brought another shade of staining, which only threw me deeper into the well of stress and terror.

And all I could do was watch, with gasping breaths, as my mother's Reaping dress was ruined.

* * *

They had forced me into my compartment, letting Ace explain the panic attack that had taken over my system. He would put it into words that were understandable and that wouldn't be filled with stuttered words. That was why Papa insisted he looked after me, because he was always going to be the stronger one. In everything. School, social skills, family situations... Even just strength itself. Not that it was unfair, quite the opposite actually. I had never tried to be a 'people person', ever. People were frightened of me, and what would happen to me. Nobody truly understood.

Darkness had surrounded me, lulling sleep in my direction but I tried to ignore it. My eyelids wanted to close so much, yet I kept forcing them back open to stare into the unknown. Trying to find a lamp had been a mistake, especially when I'd knocked over a vase that held toxic-looking flowers. They had sizzled quietly when their stems hit the carpet, and I had been moved to a room further down the train, nearer the room that held the television.

Pushing myself into a sitting position, I swiveled around until my feet high the comfortable carpet below. Toes wriggling in the search for more warmth, the walls were invisible and in this night-like situation, it was almost as if there was only space and nothing else. For all I knew, the train might have been invaded and I had no knowledge of it.

"Don't be stupid, Lyra," I mentally slapped myself, feeling quite silly sitting in the dark. "Now, to find a light..."

Brightness entered the room, showing off every piece of furniture while I held in a gasp. Blinking quickly, I smiled when the information for this piece of technology hit me. _Voice control_ was a great idea. Now there was no need at all to move from my bed in the middle of the night, in search for a switch or button.

Then my happiness literally floated away, and I froze.

A tall mirror, from floor to ceiling, was glaring across the room at me with such intensity. Inside the mirror, with newly made scratches down her face and pale blue matching pyjamas, a nervous looking girl sat along in the middle of a overly large bed. Her hair was tangled and her eyes wider than they ever had been before, I suddenly felt very afraid. The injuries she had gotten looked new and the violent colours were standing out from her ultra pale skin, that looked slightly ghostly. Obviously, as it was in plain sight, the girl had hurt herself. Whether it was to feel again, or the fear of an earlier situation had popped up once more, she had caused those scratches and bruises.

But it wasn't the nameless girl in the mirror that caused those bright red lines and blue clouds.

It had been me.

* * *

_**What do you guys think? It's harder to write for Lyra than it is for Cato, and I'm a girl! It makes no sense but I still like Cato's POV more than I do Lyra's, so that may help... Plus this guy is like super, super H-O-T! **_

_**Here's my questions, though:**_

_** Rating? (as shown as the top A/N)  
What do you think of the POV's? Who do you like better?  
How would you like this story to go? Give my some ideas...**_

_**If you answer them, I will be ever so grateful! :)**_

_**AND THE REVIEW INBOX THINGY IS BORING! GIVE ME MORE!**_


End file.
